Ransom
by 88Keys
Summary: An old enemy of Victor's is out for revenge...but the price he asks may be too much for Victor to pay. Rated PG13 for violence and mild swearing. Complete and posted in its entirety. There may or may not be a sequel.
1. Intro

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Although it is not super-important, this story takes place during the first season of BHH, before the events in "Fate." The important thing is Vaughn does NOT know about the Qui ball yet.

All of the characters except Vaughn, Victor, Josie, and Principal Durst are my own creations and have never appeared in the series. Call it alternate universe if you want.

This story is rather dark and does contain some violence and mild swearing. I am not trying to pick on Vaughn; rather, I wanted to explore he and Victor's relationship under stressful circumstances. Future fics will include the rest of the characters and be more like the BHH episodes. I just had to get this one out of my head first. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: Strange Days at Blake Holsey was created by Jim Rapsas and is the property of the now-defunct Fireworks Entertainment, Discovery Kids, NBC, and probably a lot of other people who could sue me. Please don't.

Wednesday, September 20th

Business was usually slow on Wednesday nights, and this night was no exception. From across the room, Lacey watched the two men in the corner both as she waited for her next order to come up. One was dressed in slacks, a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a tie. He looked as if he had just come from the office. The other wore a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, displaying muscular arms full of tattoos.

As she watched, a thin young man with sandy hair entered the bar. He scanned the room, caught sight of the men in the corner booth and hesitated. The man in the tie waved him over, and he took his seat with them.

"Quite a crew back there," Sam the bartender remarked as he loaded Lacey's tray with drinks. "They don't go together very well."

"Two of them were in here Sunday evening," Lacey explained. "I'd never seen either one of them before then. The guy in the tie was OK. Didn't say much to me, left a decent tip. The other guy's a pig. Kept calling me baby and trying to smack my butt."

"Guys like that don't go together," Sam repeated. "Coming in on slow nights, hiding in the back. They're up to no good; I'd bet money on it."

"Sunday night, every time I came near the table, they stopped talking," Lacey said.

The bartender nodded knowingly. "Probably best that you didn't hear what they're talking about."

"I'd better take these drinks and go get their order," Lacey sighed.

"Let me know if that guy gives you any trouble," Sam said.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Theodore," Jonathan Brady said as he stood and shook the young man's hand. Michael Jakes stayed in his seat, his tattooed arms crossed in front of him.

"You can call me Ted. I'll admit, I almost didn't come," Ted Clarke replied. "I'm still not 100 sure about this."

"And what is causing your hesitation?"

"Well…it's illegal…and I don't want to hurt anyone…especially not a kid."

"We don't want to hurt anyone either, Ted," Brady replied. "The kid won't be mistreated. We just have to take him away from his father for a few days, so he will pay to get him back."

"Good money," Jakes spoke up. He put a cigarette in his mouth and flipped his lighter. Orange light flashed across tanned face and dark eyes. "And easy. Especially for you."

They stopped speaking as the waitress came up to the table. "What'll it be tonight?"

"Three Bud draft, honey," Jakes said, leering at her. Lacey rolled her eyes and left to get their drinks.

"All you have to do is turn the kid over to us, then stay cool for a few days until we get the money," Brady continued. "Then we give you 100 grand, and you can leave town. Wouldn't it be great to get out of this town? And with one hundred thousand dollars?"

"How much does Pearson pay you?" Jakes asked.

"Twelve dollars an hour."

"And do you work full-time?"

"No," Ted answered. "Usually around 20 hours a week."

"So, that's 12 dollars an hour, 20 hours a week. After taxes, that's less than $200.00 a week." Jakes took a deep drag off his cigarette, then leaned in close and look Ted directly in the eye. "You can make in one afternoon what it would take you 10 years to make driving Pearson around."

Ted still looked doubtful.

Brady regarded him carefully, reading him. "You're thinking a hundred thousand doesn't go very far anymore, aren't you?"

Ted looked at him, surprised. "Well, it is a big risk."

"Three Bud draft," Lacey announced, setting the frosted mugs down on the table.

"We'll let you know if we need anything else," Brady said politely, but firmly. Lacey nodded. Jakes stared at her backside as she walked to the bar.

"A really big risk," Ted repeated after she was out of earshot.

"And a big risk should have a big payoff," Brady agreed.

"And it's not like he can't afford it," Ted continued.

Brady nodded. "An extra...hundred thousand would hardly make a dent in his bank account."

Ted took a swallow of his beer and leaned back in the booth, contemplating. "Two hundred thousand..." He looked up at Brady and smiled. "That's a lot of money."

Even with the dim light in the bar, Brady could see the excitement in those eyes. He could almost see the young man's mind churning, thinking about what all he would do with two hundred thousand dollars.

"But we won't hurt the kid?"

"No." Brady said.

"Of course not," Jakes chimed in. He took a big drink, swallowed it, and licked the foam from his lips. "We're not into that. Its just business."

"Just business," Ted repeated softly.

Brady glanced at Jakes and raised his mug. Jakes followed suit. "To business?"

Ted looked up. Slowly, he raised his mug and clinked it against their waiting ones. "To business."

Brady's lips curled into a wicked grin. Jakes laughed and chugged the rest of his beer down. "Lacey!" he called. "Another round, baby!"

Ted took a deep swallow of his beer. "I'm going to be rich."

"We're all going to be rich." Brady agreed.

Ted took a deep breath. "So...what exactly do you want me to do?"

Brady smile faded. He cocked his head to one side. "You provide the kid...we'll do the rest."


	2. Chapter 1

Later, after Ted had finished his beer and left, Michael Jakes and Jonathan Brady sat alone in the booth. "You really think this guy Pearson will shell out six hundred thousand?" Jakes asked.

Brady nodded. "He would, but he won't have to. We will ask for two hundred and fifty thousand, and you can keep it all.

Jakes raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What about the chauffer? Didn't sound like he was gonna be working for free to me."

"Oh, he is," Brady replied. "He just doesn't know it yet." He counted on his fingers as he explained the plan more fully. "We meet Ted and take the kid from him. Then we take Ted out in the woods and dispose of him. We get the money from Pearson. That's when your part in all this is done."

Jakes looked at him suspiciously. "And why should I believe that you won't off me at that point, just like you're gonna off the chauffer?"

Brady looked him directly in the eyes. "I guess you don't really have anything besides my word that I won't. But the fact that you even asked that question shows that you're smart. You're not a dumb lackey like Clarke. I trust you, and I'm asking you to trust me." Brady reached back for his wallet and discreetly pulled out some bills. "Maybe this will help convince you."

Jakes silently counted the bills. "Five thousand, huh? Not bad. It's a start, at least." He grinned as he pocketed the money. "So, what happens after my part is done?"

Brady just looked at him and shook his head. He would handle that part himself. He didn't explain that was the most important part of the whole plan, and the reason for the kidnapping itself. It was what had been building inside his mind slowly, in bits and pieces over the last 15 years.

It would be his revenge. His triumph.

Jakes lit up another cigarette. "OK…probably best that I don't know." He took a thoughtful drag. "I still don't get it, though. Why would you want to go to all this trouble to kidnap someone and not get any money out of it? I mean, what exactly is it you got against this Pearson guy? It must go pretty deep if you're doing all this for free."

Brady regarded Michael Jakes carefully. He had chosen him mainly for his sheer size and brute strength. He needed someone to do the dirty work, helping keep the kid in line while he took care of everything else. Jakes was a thug; a large muscular man who used his size to intimidate others. But he also seemed to have at least some insight, and street smarts. Brady hoped he was not wrong in choosing him as his partner in his latest…business venture.

"No," Jonathan agreed. "It's not about money. I have my own, as you can see. It's personal." His eyes took on a far-away look. "Pearson and I go way, way back."

Friday, September 22nd

Vaughn Pearson walked into his dorm room and flipped on the light. After the noise and excitement of the football game, the school seemed dull and quiet. It was the first game of the season, and they had won it easily. Vaughn's three touchdown passes were instrumental to the victory. After the game, half the school was patting him on the back and congratulating him. Two cheerleaders had even kissed him on the cheek.

"_Too bad my dad couldn't see it,"_ he thought to himself. He had been scanning the crowd every chance he got, but never did find his father.

"_I wonder what he had to do that was more important."_

As if in answer, the phone in his room rang.

"Hello? Hi, Dad. Yeah, yeah we won the game. I threw three touchdowns.... It's OK, Dad, I understand. Your meetings are important.... Next week? We don't have a game next week. Just practice...Yeah, I'd like that. Thursday night? Sounds good. I'll come home after practice....I can walk....OK then, tell him practice is over at 5:00. I'll see you then...Goodnight.

"Hot date Thursday night?" a voice behind him asked. It was Josie Trent, standing in the open doorway.

"Only if dinner with my dad counts as a hot date," Vaughn answered, placing the receiver back in its cradle.

"I take it he didn't make it to the game tonight."

Vaughn shrugged. "His meeting ran late."

"Well, he missed a good game."

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "You were there? You hate school sports."

Josie shrugged. "I had nothing better to do." She looked at him and smiled. "You were really good."

The warning bell sounded, startling them. "I'd, um, better get back to my room," Josie said quickly.

"Yeah...thanks for going to the game tonight."

"No problem," Josie replied. "See you tomorrow." She smiled innocently at a frowning Principal Durst who watched her from the stair landing.

Vaughn quickly changed into shorts and a t-shirt and climbed into bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered again what his father's meetings were about, and why they seemed to be more important to his father than he was.

Wednesday, September 27th

"Thank you, Ted," Victor said as his driver pulled up in front of the Pearson mansion. "That will be all for today."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Vaughn is coming over for dinner tomorrow night. Pick him up at the school at five, after his football practice ends."

Ted felt his pulse quicken. He was picking up Victor's son tomorrow. Alone. He swallowed hard.

"Yes, sir," Ted repeated, wondering if his boss heard the slight tremor in his voice.

As soon as he got home, Ted called the cell phone number Jonathan Brady had given him. "I'm supposed to pick the kid up from school tomorrow evening at five," he explained breathlessly.

Brady felt his breath catch in his throat. Finally, after all these years, it was really happening. "That's perfect, Theodore. I knew I could count on you. In a few days, you'll have a six-figure income."

Thursday, September 28th

Vaughn pulled a t-shirt with the sleeves cut out on over his sweat pants. He towel-dried his still-wet hair, then took a look in the locker room mirror. _"Not exactly dressed for dinner."_ His dad would not approve. But he didn't have any other clothes with him.

"_I'll change when I get home,"_ he decided. He stuffed his football pads into his locker, slammed it, and twirled the combination lock.

His father's black Buick Park Avenue was parked in front of the school. Vaughn felt a little embarrassed, as he always did when he was picked up from school. None of the other kids had their own chauffer, or their own private room. He shrugged it off and climbed into the backseat.

"Hi, Ted," he said to the chauffer.

Ted looked up at Vaughn's reflection in the review mirror. "Good afternoon, Vaughn." He moved one sweaty palm from the steering wheel to the gearshift. The car pulled forward, down the school's driveway.

Ted wondered if Vaughn could hear his heart beating. He glanced again at the review mirror. Vaughn was quiet, staring out the window. Ted suddenly felt very, very guilty. What had this kid ever done to him? And now he was going to use him just so he could get some money?

The turn-off was fast approaching. He could turn there and meet Brady like they had planned…or he could keep going straight and deliver the kid safely home. His right foot pressed the accelerator a little harder.

"_But what will they do to me if I don't show up?" _He suddenly realized how little he knew about these men. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

"_It's too late now."_ His foot moved from the accelerator to the brake. He eased the car into a gentle right turn, down the narrow lane. He could see a white van parked on the left side of the road, waiting for them.

Vaughn suddenly realized he was looking at unfamiliar scenery. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Ted didn't answer. He continued down the lane until they were almost to the white van, then pulled the Buick up in front of it.

"Ted?" Vaughn felt the first very slight twinge of uncertainty, like a prickling on the back of his neck.

Ted knew if he turned around to look at the kid, he would lose his nerve. Instead, he opened his door and stepped out of the car to meet the two men exiting the van.

Vaughn's heart started beating faster. Although not entirely sure why, he suddenly felt as if he should run, far away, as fast as he could. _'"Get out of here," _his brain screamed at him. He was reaching for the door handle when it was jerked away from him. The door flew open, and a sharp face with dark eyes appeared, screaming at him to get out of the car.

Vaughn scrambled back, his only thought being to get away from that face and the muscular tattooed arm that was now reaching inside the car. It grabbed his arm and yanked with tremendous force, jerking him across the backseat. His forehead hit the doorframe and he groaned at the sharp pain that followed. The arm jerked him again and he was out of the car, face down on the ground. He struggled, trying to push himself up, until a knee pressed into his back, pinning him to the ground. A large hand grabbed both of his wrists while the other wrapped a rope tightly around them. A piece of cloth was tied around his eyes.

It was all happening so fast. The arm was jerking him to his feet now. "Walk," a gruff voice commanded. Vaughn stumbled forward, still dazed from the sharp blow to his head. The man led him to the van, keeping a firm grip on his arm the whole time. "Step up."

Vaughn stepped up, and the man shoved him to the floor of the van, then sat down on the seat behind him. Vaughn could feel the edge of the man's boot against his side. He took a shaky breath, his brain still spinning, trying to comprehend what had just happened. He was being kidnapped. Like something out of a movie. Kidnapped. He heard the front doors of the van slam shut, and then they were moving.


	3. Chapter 2

At the Pearson Mansion, Victor was in his study, engrossed in some paperwork. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed six o'clock, startling him out of his work.

"_Vaughn should be here by now."_ He checked both the dining room and Vaughn's room and was surprised to find no one there. Victor sighed in annoyance as he dialed Ted's cell phone number.

No answer. _"Maybe Vaughn's practice ran late."_ Ted should still have his cell phone on though. Victor sat back down at his desk and picked up the paperwork again.

* * *

Vaughn's head was reeling. He was trying desperately to organize his thoughts, but they kept whirling in a mad jumble. Nothing made sense. He couldn't see and he could barely think. 

The carpeting on the van floor was rough against his cheek. He could hear the hum of the engine and feel heat coming through the floor. He forced himself to focus on one thought at a time.

He had been kidnapped. Ted was in on it. He had led him right to them. How could Ted do that? Vaughn had known him for over a year. True, he didn't know him very well, but he was always polite, and he and Vaughn sometimes talked sports together. _"How could he do something like this? Why would anyone want to do this to me?"_ It didn't make sense.

Tied up and unable to see, time and direction began to lose their meaning. They drove for a long time, at least an hour Vaughn estimated, when the van pulled over to the side of the road. Vaughn heard the driver's side door open. He was alone with the tattoed man.

His arms were starting to ache from the uncomfortable position they were in. He could feel a lump on his forehead where it had hit the doorframe.

Vaughn realized they must be out in the country, for he could hear no traffic sounds, people, machinery; none of the sounds of a populated area. The silence was eerie. Vaughn jumped when it was broken by two gunshots, very close by.

Above him, the tattooed man chuckled. "Dumb kid," he muttered.

Now that the initial shock had worn off, curiosity had begun to creep in. Vaughn cautiously raised his head and dared to break the silence.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice shaky.

No response. Vaughn spoke a little louder.

"Who are you? Where are we going? What just happened?"

"Shut up, kid," the man sitting above him growled. Vaughn winced as his question was answered by a sharp kick in the ribs. He resigned himself to silence after that.

He heard the van doors slam again, and they were moving.

"Guess he was working for free," the man above him said. "What about the car and the body?"

"They're both back in the woods," the driver answered. "We'll be long gone before anybody finds them."

_"The body? What body?"_ Vaughn felt sick to his stomach as he realized it was Ted's body. They killed him. Ted was dead. These men were killers. They killed Ted, and they might kill him too. Vaughn began to tremble and could not stop.

* * *

It wasn't surprising that Victor didn't hear the clock chime seven, or seven-thirty. He had learned long ago that hard work and dedication always pay off; therefore, he always devoted himself fully to whatever project he was working on. It took the jangle of the telephone to make him look up from his paperwork. It was nearly eight o'clock. He realized with a start that Ted had never returned with Vaughn. 

"_That's probably him now,"_ Victor thought as the phone rang again. "Hello?"

"Hello, Victor," said the male voice on the other end of the line. "It's been a long time." The voice was unfamiliar, almost growling at him.

"And you are...?"

"You'll find that out soon enough. Are you wondering where your son is?"

Victor felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. "What are you talking about?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Your son, Vaughn. I have him."

Victor felt his breath catch in his throat. "If this is some kind of joke-"

"I assure you, this is no joke," the menacing voice cut him off. "I have your son. If you want him back, wait by your phone for further instructions. Do not call the police or I will kill him."

Victor felt light-headed, as if all the blood had drained from his head. He realized he had stopped breathing and forced himself to take a deep breath in. "Let me talk to him," he said when he could finally speak again.

"Wait by your phone for instructions. I will call again soon. Do NOT call the police or I WILL know and I WILL kill Vaughn." There was a click, then the dial tone sounded.

"Wait!" But it was too late. He was gone.

Victor immediately called Blake Holsey High. "Let me speak to Vaughn, now," he demanded, hoping against hope that this was indeed some kind of joke, some horrible mistake.

"Why, Vaughn had my permission to leave after his football practice, Mr. Pearson," Principal Durst explained. "I saw him get into the car with your driver."

"And you're certain he didn't come back to the school?"

"No...but I just took roll at dinner. He wasn't there."

"Well go look for him!" Victor snapped. "Check his room, the gym, everywhere. I'll wait."

She was gone for about ten minutes, though it felt like hours to Victor. He heard the doorbell ring and rushed to answer it. He couldn't hide the look of disappointment when he saw his attorney, Frank Miller, standing there instead of his son. Victor motioned him inside and ran back to the phone.

Horrible scenarios kept trying to make their way through his mind. He forced himself to focus on the phone, and how any minute now Vaughn would pick up the phone and sheepishly explain that he forgot he was supposed to come over tonight...

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pearson." It was not Vaughn's voice, but the principal again. "He's not here."

Victor dejectedly let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Everything's fine," he lied. "Goodnight." He hung up the phone and looked around his office. He listened hard for reassuring sounds like Vaughn's footsteps as he ran up the stairs, his stereo playing too loud, his voice talking on the phone.

The house had never been so quiet. Vaughn was gone.

* * *

"You look upset," Frank Miller commented as he entered Victor's study. Victor was staring at the phone blankly, as if trying to will it to ring. 

"It's Vaughn. I think he's been…kidnapped." Victor had to force the words out of his mouth. His brain seemed to think that if he didn't speak them aloud, the situation wouldn't be real.

Frank's eyes grew wide. "Kidnapped? When? How?"

Quickly Victor outlined Vaughn's failure to show up for dinner, the cryptic phone call, and his conversation with Principal Durst.

"Have you actually gone to the school to see if he's there?"

"No…I just got the call a few minutes ago."

"And you didn't call the police?"

"Not yet. I just…I don't know what to do."

Inwardly, Victor chided himself. He was used to being the one in charge, in control of everything and everyone around him. Now, someone else had that power over him. They were in complete control. It both infuriated and terrified him. He didn't know what to do. He did know that he needed help, which is why was glad to see Frank Miller. As his lawyer, Miller was his best advisor and closest confidant in both business and personal matters.

"This is ridiculous. I should call the police. I should've called them right away," Victor said, reaching for the phone.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Frank said quickly.

Victor raised his eyebrows.

"Well, you heard what they said," Frank answered the silent question. "I know it's almost a cliche, but do you really want to take that chance that they would hurt Vaughn?"

Victor stared hard at the phone. Slowly, he withdrew his hand.

"No...no, I don't."

"Maybe you should wait and see what they want first."

Victor glared at him. "You want me to just sit here, and do nothing, while my son is missing?"

"What can you do?" Frank asked. "Do you have any idea who might have done this? Or where they might be?"

Victor shook his head. "I can't imagine anyone…doing something like this. I can't believe it's really happening. He sank weakly into his chair and looked his friend in the eye. "You know I hate waiting."

Frank gave a weak smile. "I know. But right now, you don't have much choice."

Victor's eyes narrowed. "I hate that, too."

* * *

"_Your other senses really do kick in when you lose one,"_ Vaughn thought as he was led across the driveway. The van had finally stopped moving. He could feel the cool night air on his face. The crunch of gravel seemed loud, and he could feel it pressing against the soles of his shoes. He heard a door open, and the air changed. It was warmer, and a bit musty. There were inside. 

They walked forward a bit, then turned left. Vaughn's shoulder brushed up against the edge of the doorway as they entered a new room. The strong man pushed him up onto a rough bunk against the wall, then tied his feet together. Vaughn heard the door slam shut, then the scraping of metal, like a deadbolt lock being closed. Then, silence.

Vaughn scooted forward as far as he could until he bumped the wall, then cautiously felt his way to the outer edge. There was only a few feet of space until the edge of the bunk. Trying to escape crossed his mind, but it seemed impossible with his eyes covered and hands and feet tied. He was trapped, alone and in the dark.

It was bizarre to think that just a few hours ago he was going to class, playing football, and living his normal life. Everything was scheduled and orderly. Now everything had changed, and the uncertainty was terrifying.

"_I can't believe this is happening."_

Now that he was by himself, and it was quiet, loneliness like he had never known swept over him. He thought about Blake Holsey High, his room there, and his friends. What were they doing right now? What was Josie doing right now? Did any of them miss him? Probably not yet; he hadn't been gone very long, though it felt like an eternity. Would they miss him tomorrow when he wasn't in school?

"_Will I ever go to school again?"_ What about Josie? _"What if I never see her again? Would she miss me?"_

He thought about the Pearson Mansion, and his father. Sometimes, the school felt more like home than his own house. Surely his father had missed him by now, when he hadn't shown up for dinner. The kidnappers would probably ask him for money to get Vaughn back. What if he wouldn't pay? His father usually seemed to regard Vaughn as a nuisance, and a disappointment. Maybe he didn't want him back.

"_Stop it,"_ Vaughn told himself firmly. Of course his father would pay. He was probably going crazy with worry right now.

"_Unless he's in a meeting."_

Vaughn felt a lump rise in his throat. He tried to swallow it back, but a few tears escaped, wetting the blindfold in front of his eyes. Despite the uncomfortable position he was in, confusion and fear took their toll, and he eventually dropped off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 3

Thursday, September 28th

Michael Jakes's home was really more like a cabin, set back in the woods off of a blacktopped road. The main room was large and contained both the living and dining areas. The kitchen was separated from this room by a small island. Two small bedrooms and a bathroom sat off of the main room. Most of the furniture was wooden, inexpensive but practical; a typical bachelor pad.

Jonathan Brady sat staring at the floor, his chin in his hands and elbows on his knees. He had managed to sleep for a few hours, stretched out on Jakes's lumpy couch. Now it was early morning, and he was thinking about what he would say to Victor Pearson.

"_Where do you start with someone you haven't seen in almost 15 years? _There was so much he wanted to say to his former partner. Too much. He wanted Victor to know how much pain he had caused those around him. The pain had been eating at Brady for almost 15 years now.

"_You don't have to tell him. You're going to make him feel it."_ The call must be business only. Brady glanced at his watch. He would keep Victor hanging for one more hour, then wake up Mike and the kid so they could make the first call.

* * *

Vaughn opened his eyes and saw nothing. He blinked several times, but the darkness held. He couldn't see. He tried to reach his hands up to his eyes, but they would not move. Something was holding them behind his back. He couldn't move his legs, either. Vaughn panicked and jerked as hard has he could, trying to free himself, but nothing would move. He rolled too far to the left and fell to the floor, landing painfully on his tied wrists. Vaughn heard rapid footsteps coming towards him and a door opening.

"He's awake," a voice above him chuckled. Then everything came back; the two men, the van, the gunshots. Apparently, it wasn't just a dream.

"Get up," the voice above him commanded. He reached down and untied Vaughn's ankles, then jerked him to his feet. Vaughn's legs felt as if they were made of rubber. They shook and he stumbled, nearly falling down. The muscular man steadied him. Gradually, the circulation returned and he was able to stand.

The man half led, half dragged Vaughn towards their destination. He still felt disoriented, and being blindfolded certainly didn't help. Finally they stopped, and Vaughn heard a door open in front of him. The man shoved him through it and untied the ropes around his wrists. "I'll wait out here, but don't try anything. You've got two minutes."

Vaughn immediately pulled the blindfold off of his face. After being in the dark so long, the light seemed unnaturally bright and harsh. He squinted and blinked until his eyes finally adjusted. He was in a small bathroom. Vaughn looked around for something he could use as a weapon, but there wasn't much. It looked like a typical bachelor's bathroom with only the basics: towel, toothbrush and paste, bar of soap. Toothpaste spots decorated the mirror, and a few wet towels were piled on the floor. His eyes fell on a prescription pill bottle. _Michael Jakes._

After he finished, Vaughn washed his hands, wincing as the cold water hit the bands of raw skin on his wrists were the ropes had been. He splashed water on his face and the back of his neck, and scooped up large handfuls of it to drink. His stomach growled loudly in response, reminding him how hungry and thirsty he was.

"Time's up," Jakes called from behind the door. Vaughn complacently put his hands behind his back and leaned against the sink. As Jakes reached for him, Vaughn clenched his fist and swung, moving his body as well as his arm to put more force behind the blow. He felt it solidly connect, but not with his captor's face. He looked up to see his fist stopped by Michael Jakes's large rough hand, which had come up to block his own.

Jakes glared down at him. "Nice try." He jerked Vaughn's arm back down and around behind him, making Vaughn wince. "I'll let it go this time." He quickly retied Vaughn's wrists, tighter this time, it seemed. The blindfold was left behind, seemingly forgotten.

"Why are you doing this?" Vaughn asked as he was led out of the bathroom. "Is this all about money?"

"For me it is," Jakes answered.

"And for the other guy?"

"Brady? For him, its personal," Jakes replied quietly.

Before Vaughn could ask what that meant, they were in the living room. The other man, the one Michael Jakes called Brady, was standing in the middle of the room. _The one who killed Ted._ He didn't have the muscular build that his partner did, but his penetrating gaze more than made up for it.

Brady looked Vaughn up and down critically, then reached for a cell phone that was lying on the scratched coffee table. A handgun rested next to it. "We're going to make a phone call," he explained to Vaughn. "You keep your mouth shut unless I tell you to say something. Got it?" Vaughn glanced at the gun and nodded in agreement.

* * *

The small brass clock quietly chimed seven times. Victor glared, ready to put his fist through it. He had just spent the longest night of his life in alternating periods of pacing around his study and sitting staring at the phone. He had gone through his address book and the records of every Peradyne employee, trying to find anyone who had a motive to kidnap his son.

Frank Miller entered the room with two steaming mugs of coffee. Victor accepted one and nodded his thanks.

"Did you find anything?" Frank asked, motioning to the papers scattered across the desk.

"A lot of things, actually," Victor answered. "People I've fired, people who were involved with the original Peradyne, people who didn't like my…my 'business methods.' But I can't think of anyone who would stoop to this." Victor looked Frank directly in the eye. "I do what I have to do to accomplish my goals, Frank, but I'm not a swindler. I've never cheated anyone."

"I know that, Victor," Frank replied. "But you have to keep in mind that anyone who would do something like this isn't…normal. They may be taking a small incident and blowing it out of proportion. Or it may just be someone who knows you have a lot of money and wants to take advantage of that."

Victor shook his head. "Based on what he said on the phone, it must be someone from the past."

"Do you think he was just trying to throw you off track?" Frank asked.

"I don't know!" Victor snapped, waving his hand and upsetting the coffee mug. Dark brown liquid spread across his desk. "Damn it!" He was frantically trying to save his papers from the free flowing coffee when the phone rang.

Victor froze. The phone rang again. He set the papers on the floor, took a deep breath, and reached for the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hello, Victor." The voice on the line sounded vaguely familiar.

"Who are you? Where's Vaughn?"

"Do you really think I'm going to tell you all that?"

Victor stiffened. "I don't know who you are, but be advised that you are taking on much more than you will be able to handle. If you hurt my son-"

"You'll do what? I'm the one in charge this time, not you. I suggest you stop talking and start listening."

Victor clenched his jaw. "I'm listening," he said with great control.

"Good. You have several things that I want. Now that I have something you want, I propose we make a business deal."

"Tell me what it is you want, and let me speak to Vaughn, and I'll consider it," Victor replied coolly.

"You're not in a position to make demands, Victor!" the voice shouted.

"If you know me as well as you claim, you'll know I don't make blind deals," Victor said. "Now let me talk to my son."

"Fine," the voice said curtly.

On the other end of the line, Brady handed the phone to Jakes, then picked up the gun. He placed the barrel against the side of Vaughn's head. "Say hello to your father," he hissed.

Vaughn's mouth was suddenly too dry to talk. He had never been around guns before. He had never even seen one up close. Now one was touching his head. All he could think about was that the man's finger might slip on the trigger.

Vaughn managed to swallow. His brain finally remembered how to talk.

"Hello," he said softly, wishing his voice didn't sound so shaky.

"Vaughn." Victor felt his breath catch in his throat. "Son, are you OK?"

"I'm OK." He wanted to say so much more, but Jakes was handing the phone back to Brady already. Thankfully, the later was also lowering the gun. Vaughn felt himself relax slightly.

"Satisfied?" Brady asked.

"Not until I get my son back."

"That can be arranged. Listen up. I want two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, cash."

"Kidnapping for money," Victor said. "How cowardly."

In the background, he heard what sounded like a smack. "You hear that?" Brady asked. "That was the sound of your son paying the price for your attitude. Next time he will get more than just a black eye.

"You-" Victor began, then stopped. He gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. "What else?" he finally managed.

Brady wondered if Victor could hear him grinning through the phone line. "I want the plans for Peradyne Two. And the power source. I want the floating ball, Victor."

"_Floating ball?"_ thought Vaughn.

For the second time in less than a day, Victor felt almost light-headed with shock. He was silent for a full twenty seconds, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. "I don't know what you're talking about," he finally managed to say.

He heard a another smack, and the sound of someone crying out in pain. Victor felt sick to his stomach as he realized it was Vaughn.

"You better figure it out very soon, for your son's sake!" Brady snarled angrily. "Get the money, the plans, and the ball by 6 tonight. I'll let you know when and where to meet me. Oh, and Victor...if you call the police, I will not only kill your son, I will ruin you. How would you like for the media to hear about your research? Everyone will know what Peradyne Industries really is." There was a click, then the dial tone sounded.

Victor sank into his chair, stunned. Frank Miller looked at him inquisitively. "Well? What did they say? What do they want? Do you know who it is?"

"He knows everything..."Victor mumbled. "It could only be one person...but he couldn't, he wouldn't..."

"Victor, what are you talking about? Who is it?"

Victor finally looked up, as if just then realizing that Frank was still in the room. "What he asked for... only four people know about it, or have ever known about it. Me, Sarah, Kelly Trent, and Jonathan Brady."

"Brady?" Frank looked at him sharply. "Who is that?"

"My old partner," Victor explained. "He helped me start the original Peradyne Labs. We were almost like brothers once. He was a brilliant scientist, and a friend."

"What happened?"

"The explosion," Victor replied, marveling at how the same incident seemed to find new ways to haunt him all the time. "His younger brother Charles was hired as a technician. They were very close. He was killed in the accident. Although he never said it, I think Jonathan always blamed me somehow. Our relationship was never the same after that."

Victor got a far-away look in his eyes. "We both lost a lot that day. We were both in a lot of pain. Things became very strained between us. Jonathan worked with me for another six months or so, then went to another company." Victor looked up at Frank, confused. "Come to think of it, I haven't heard from him since then."

Frank shook his head. "So you're telling me that this guy that you haven't spoken to or seen in fifteen years has suddenly just appeared and kidnapped your son? It doesn't make sense."

"Nothing about this makes much sense," Victor said, standing. "But he knows about Peradyne, and the power source…the only other person who would know those details is Kelly Trent."

"Maybe she is responsible," Frank suggested. "Or maybe she is in on it. She could've hired someone else to do the dirty work."

Victor shook his head. "I know Dr. Trent. Although I don't trust her, I know she wouldn't put my son in danger. She would never do something like this."

"You said this Brady guy would never do something like this either," Frank reminded him gently.

Victor took a clean piece of paper and a pen from his desk and began writing. He handed the notes to Frank.

"This is the info I have about Brady: his full name, date of birth, the city he moved to. I want you to find out everything you can about him."

Frank nodded. "Sure. What are you going to do?"

Victor glanced at the large telescope in the corner of his study. If he lost the power source, he lost everything he had been working for his whole life. Again. "_But if I lose Vaughn…"_

"I don't know," he finally sighed.

* * *

Vaughn's breath came in short gasps as he focused on breathing in and out. The burning pain in his stomach finally began to subside as Brady turned off the cell phone and tossed it back onto the table.

He leaned down to peer at Vaughn's face. "Good job," he said, as if Vaughn was some kind of dog who had just performed a trick. "You might even get something to eat later. I'm going out," he informed Jakes as he stood up straight. "I have some business to attend to. Tie him back up, hands and feet. Make sure he can't go anywhere, and don't leave until I get back. I don't want any stupid mistakes to mess this up."

Jakes complied, and Vaughn was once again left in the dimly lit bedroom alone, wondering what was going to happen to him next. He couldn't help but think that the kidnappers letting him see them and hear their names was a very bad sign.


	5. Chapter 4

Tied up in the empty bedroom, time had lost all meaning for Vaughn. He was pretty sure it had been early morning when they had made the call to his father, but that was hours ago. Or was it? Maybe it just felt that way. The only way he had to judge was by the sunlight coming through the one small window in the room. Even that was deceptive, as the light was filtered through the trees outside and the dingy curtain covering the window. Vaughn was already beginning to feel as if he had been with his captors forever, and that the life he knew before was just a dream. He realized that, if he did come out of this alive, life would never be the same again. It would always be divided into before and after. _The time I won that trophy? That was before I got kidnapped. The day I left for college? That was after I got kidnapped._

What if there was no after?

Thoughts like these tormented him relentlessly. Here, he had nothing to do but think.

_What if they kill you?_ Why would they? _They killed Ted. _Dad will give them what they want and then they'll let me go._ What if he doesn't pay the ransom_? Of course he will. He's got plenty of money, and he loves me _Loves you? He doesn't act like it._ He's just busy sometimes.

The constant argument between his imagination and his logic was giving him a headache. The hunger pains that gnawed at him didn't help, either. Assuming it was at least lunchtime, he hadn't eaten anything in a day. He remembered Professor Zachary's lecture on the digestive system. He said a human can live without food for weeks, as long as they have water. The body would begin to digest stored fat, then muscles for energy. _Great. Maybe they won't shoot you. Maybe they'll just leave you in this to room to starve to death._

From outside the door, footsteps sounded. Vaughn felt his pulse quicken slightly. Though being tied up on the bunk was uncomfortable, at least there no one was hitting him or holding a gun to his head. _What are they going to do this time?_

The footsteps came closer. Vaughn couldn't be sure, but they seemed lighter than the ones he had heard earlier in the day. Maybe it was Brady and not Jakes? He heard a click as the door opened. Vaughn looked up to see the last thing he expected: a woman.

Her surprised scream indicated that the woman was not expecting him either. Vaughn shrieked too. The woman slammed the door shut and stood frozen with shock for several moments. She finally composed herself and was reaching for the doorknob again when a gruff voice sounded behind her.

"Crystal! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Michael! There's someone in the bedroom!"

"I know that." He grabbed her arm roughly. "I said, what are you doing here? I thought you had to work today."

"I-I traded shifts with Jenny. I thought I'd come and see you. I haven't seen you in a week."

"I've been busy. What were you doing snooping around back here?"

"Michael, please. I was just looking for you. Why is there someone tied up in there?!"

Jakes looked around, then grabbed her arm tighter. He pulled her closer, so that his eyes were only a few inches from her own. "You weren't supposed to know. Now that you do, you're in on it as much as if you had known from the beginning."

Crystal pulled back, frightened. "In on what?" His only answer was to grip her arm even tighter.

"Michael...that hurts. Just relax and tell me what's going on. Please."

Jakes pulled away from the bedroom and to the living room couch. Vaughn could hear the muffled tones of their conversation. _They weren't counting on this woman showing up._ He felt a tiny bit of hope, almost enough to make him smile. Maybe he could use this to his advantage.

* * *

In low tones, Jakes outlined the kidnapping plot to Crystal. He left out the part about Brady killing the kid after they had the money. He hadn't planned on letting his girlfriend in on the plan at all. The fewer people involved, the better. Now he had no choice.

She was looking at him now with wide eyes. "Michael...how can you be sure you'll pull this off? If that man is as rich and powerful as you say, he will hunt you down. You'll go to jail."

Michael shook his head. "Brady's taking care of that. He goes way back with this guy. Pearson doesn't even know I'm involved, and he doesn't know me from Adam."

"But that boy, he has seen you. He'll tell them you were in on it. He'll lead them to this house!"

Jakes shook his head. "He was blindfolded when we brought him here. Besides, even if he does tell them, I'll be long gone by that time. With two-hundred and fifty grand, we can go anywhere we want."

She looked surprised. "We? You want me to leave with you?"

He nodded. "We can go anywhere," he repeated, "and we'll live like kings. You can get some new clothes at the best stores, diamonds, a new car; whatever you want."

A hint of a smile played on her lips. "You would buy me that stuff?"

"Of course!" He hadn't actually planned on that, but it was worth it if it kept her quiet. "We won't have to work crummy jobs anymore. We won't have to work at all, if we don't want to."

It was working. He could see it in her eyes. She was drifting away, imagining the fantasy life of ease he had just described. She smiled for real now.

"That would be nice," she mumbled. Then her expression became serious again, and she looked him directly in the eye. "But you won't hurt him, right? You won't hurt the boy?"

"Of course not," he said, his dark eyes meeting her green ones. "I could never hurt a kid. In fact, why don't you go in the kitchen and make us all some lunch? He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday, and neither have I."

She nodded. "I brought Chinese food."

"I thought something smelled good," he said.

She tried her best to smile, though horrible uncertainty still nagged at her. "I just hope this works."

He pulled her to her feet and gave her a quick kiss. "It will. I promise."

* * *

Even trapped in a back room, Vaughn could smell the food. The scent was torture to him. His stomach rumbled again and again, and he felt light-headed. He tried not to get his hopes up that he would get anything to eat, but the smell was impossible to ignore. Especially when it was accompanied by approaching footsteps.

"Give him what's left of that lo-mein and rice," he heard Jakes's gruff voice command.

"Aren't you going to untie him?"

"Nah. You can feed him."

"I'm not his mother. Untie him so he can do it himself."

Finally, the door opened. Jakes knelt down next to the bunk where Vaughn was sitting.

"Turn around," he commanded. Vaughn complied, wiggling around so that his back faced his captor. "I have Brady's gun, so don't get any ideas. He took the carton of Chinese food and a fork from Crystal and handed it to Vaughn silently.

Vaughn scooped up a mouthful of noodles greedily, nearly knocking it off the fork in his haste. The lo-mein was cold and gummy, and was the best food Vaughn had ever tasted. Almost before he knew it, the food was gone and Jakes was tying his hands.

"Wait!" Vaughn said as he started to walk away.

"What?" Jakes asked suspiciously.

"Can I have a glass of water?"

Jakes finished and pushed him back. "Go get him a drink," he commanded his girlfriend.

Minutes later Crystal reappeared, holding a tall plastic glass of water. Looking extremely awkward, she nervously held the glass to his mouth. She accidentally tipped it up too far, causing some of the water to spill. It splashed his neck and wet the front of his shirt.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, righting the glass. She nervously pushed her straight blonde back away from her face.

"It's OK." She corrected the glass so that the water went into Vaughn's mouth. He took a swallow, careful not to drink it all at once.

"Are you sure you want to be mixed up in this?" he asked.

She looked surprised. "What?"

He took another drink and continued. "Well, I mean, I'm guessing you didn't know about this kidnapping plan until today. Are you sure you want to be part of something illegal? You could call the police now. I bet they would go easy on you."

"Yeah, I'll call them right now so they can haul my boyfriend to jail. How dumb do you think I am?" She started to pull the glass away. Vaughn quickly leaned his head forward to take another drink.

"I don't think you're dumb," he said after he swallowed. "You can be smart and not get into trouble. You could untie me and let me go… your boyfriend wouldn't know it was you."

Crystal looked frightened. "He would kill me."

"Kill you? I thought you said he was your boyfriend." Vaughn glanced at her arm, noticing faded bruises there. "Did he give you those?"

Crystal frowned. "He loves me. He just…doesn't know how strong he is."

"If he loved you, he wouldn't hurt you," Vaughn said, thinking of Josie.

Crystal glared at him. "What do you know about it? You're just a spoiled rich kid who's never had to work for anything before."

"You don't know me," Vaughn replied defensively.

"Yeah, well you don't know me either. Obviously you don't know that I would never betray Michael." Crystal jerked the glass away and stood up abruptly. "Look, I know you're probably scared, but you don't need to be. Michael won't hurt you. You'll be uncomfortable for a day or two, then you'll go home and talk to your therapist and you'll be fine." She slammed the door before Vaughn could point out that Jakes had already hurt him. He sighed and leaned back against the wall, settling himself in for another long wait.


	6. Chapter 5

Victor carefully set the briefcase in the passenger seat of his Porche, then climbed in the driver's seat. He closed the door, effectively shutting out the crisp September air and the sounds of the outside world. He leaned back heavily against the seat and sighed.

Victor stared hard at the briefcase next to him. It looked plain and ordinary on the outside, but Victor knew better. Inside it was stuffed with two hundred fifty thousand dollars, cash. The bank manager had hesitated slightly when he heard Victor's request.

"Is something wrong, Doug?" Victor had asked him, while giving his best penetrating gaze.

"No...of course not...it's just a bit...unusual, from you."

"I've been banking here for over 8 years. I entrust you with a substantial amount of money. If I need to take it somewhere else-"

"No, no, that's not necessary," the manager assured his biggest client. He hastily shoved a paper across his desk. "Just sign this form, please, and I'll be right back with your cash."

It was so easy to manipulate people when you had something they wanted. Victor had known that for years, but this was the first time he had seen that reality from the other side. The site of the money-filled briefcase made him angry. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars. As if his son's life was something that could be bought. Victor clenched his fist and angrily knocked the briefcase to the floor. A passer-by looked at him curiously. He glared back as he started the car and took off for home.

Driving was not enough of a distraction to stop the thoughts that had been circling through his head all day long. Dark visions about Vaughn's fate, pleasant memories of happier times, questions about how good of a parent he had been, the nagging feeling that he was missing something important, some vital detail…all mixed together in his brain until he wanted to scream. Worst of all were the feelings of guilt, that what was happening was his own fault.

And it was. Vaughn didn't know anything about Jonathan Brady, or his brother, or Peradyne, or the accident. Well, he didn't know much about it, anyway; just what he had managed to learn by snooping around with Josie Trent. Of all the people involved in this whole mess, Vaughn was the most innocent, and yet he always seemed to suffer the most. Growing up without a mother, and without much of a father... Victor always used the excuse of excellent education to justify sending Vaughn to live at Blake Holsey High. Deep down, he knew it was partly to keep him out of the way so he could continue his research. _Would it really have been so inconvenient to let him live at home?_ He could have seen him every day, instead of a few times a week. Those missed opportunities, like the football game last Friday night, haunted him now. Was the meeting really so important? Victor couldn't even remember what it had been about. It occurred to him that in a couple of years, Vaughn would be gone to college. There would be no more football games, or science projects, or dinners together.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He had spent most of his life shuffling his son out of the way. Now he was really gone, and Victor was desperate to get him back.

When he arrived home, Frank Miller met him in his study with take-out from a local deli. He handed Victor a club sandwich. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

Victor shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"I didn't ask if you were hungry." He pressed the sandwich into his client's hands. Victor reluctantly took a bite, not really tasting it.

"Did you get the money?"

Victor nodded. "Easily. What did you find out about Brady?"

Miller took out a notepad. "Not much. After leaving you he worked for a couple of other labs. Then he left lab science all together and started working on the cooperate end of a software developing company called SureData. He's pretty high up on the ladder there." He handed the notes he had scribbled over to Victor.

Victor scanned them. "Did you contact the company?"

Miller nodded. "They said he is on an extended leave. Didn't say what for."

It struck Victor as almost funny, the thought of someone getting paid leave from work to carry out a kidnapping. "Frank, if all this is correct...Brady doesn't need money. He has his own."

Miller looked him in the eyes. "You're doing the right thing, Victor. In my experience, these matters are best handled privately, with as few people involved as possible. When kidnappers smell cops involved, they can get...skittish."

Victor looked up in surprise. "In your experience? You mean you've handled this kind of thing before?"

Miller shrugged. "You're not my only wealthy client, as you know. This kind of thing happens more often than you think."

"And they just get away with it," Victor mused.

"Vaughn's life is what's important here. A little money is nothing, right?"

"The money isn't."

"And the other thing he asked for? The ball?"

Victor walked over to the shiny black telescope in the corner of the room. Inside its secret compartment lay the key to everything.

"I have an idea about that."

* * *

"You must be bored," Crystal said as she set the radio down on the floor and plugged it in. "Maybe this will be a little better." She turned it to a top-forty station and turned the volume to medium.

"Yeah, it'll be a real party now," Vaughn replied.

Crystal looked slightly hurt. "I'm just trying to help."

"You want to help me? I can think of something much more helpful than a radio."

"I already told you I can't do that."

"Why?" Vaughn asked incredulously. "I mean, how can you just sit in there watching TV like nothing is happening? You're helping commit a felony, for Pete's sake."

Crystal frowned. "Forget it, then." She jerked the plug out of the wall and took the radio back in the other room, slamming the door behind her.

Vaughn sighed in frustration. Even the lousy boy-band music would've been infinitely better than the silence he had been sitting in for hours. His arms and shoulders ached from being trapped behind him, and his lower back and rear felt numb from sitting for so long. He scooted to the edge of the bunk and set his feet on the floor, then carefully slid his weight off the bunk. After a few moments, his legs felt like they might actually support his weight, and he took a couple of tentative hops away from the ledge. He knew it looked ridiculous, but it felt so good to move!

The door opened again. Vaughn looked up, expecting to see Crystal holding the radio again. Instead, to his surprise, Brady appeared. His jeans and un-tucked polo shirt were casual, but his glare was not.

"What are you doing?" he asked, crossing the room in a couple of long strides. Vaughn leaned back, trying to get away from him but forgetting that his feet were tied. He had to make a couple of quick hops to regain his balance, finally resting against the edge of the bunk. "I was just trying to move around a little. I wasn't going anywhere." _Obviously._ He had been trying all afternoon to loosen the ropes and had been rewarded with nothing more than extremely sore wrists.

Brady relaxed a bit, apparently believing him. He bent to untie his feet. "How about another bathroom break? " He took him firmly by the arm and lead him down the hall.

Looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Vaughn was shocked by his own appearance. His face was pale, his eyes red. A raised lump stood up on his forehead, and a dark bruise decorated his left temple. His shirt was wrinkled and dirty, his hair greasy. Various small scratches and bruises dotted his arms. Had he really only been gone for a day? So much had happened in so little time. _I need a shower._ A shower, and a long nap…that would be nice…

Brady had left the ropes in the bedroom, so he led Vaughn back down the hall untied. Crystal and Jakes were in the living room as he passed by. Cigarette smoke clouded the room, and he could see several empty beer cans on the floor. He tried to appeal to Crystal with a helpless gaze as he walked by, but she would not even look in his direction.

When they reached the bedroom, Brady positioned himself squarely between the door and his captive. He stared at Vaughn now, as if somehow sizing him up. Vaughn felt nervous under his gaze, and finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Who are you?"

"I used to work with your father."

"At Peradyne."

"I was a partner there, along with your father and mother."

"My mother…She died in the explosion there."

Brady nodded. "So did my brother."

"Is that what this is all about?"

"Partially," Brady explained. "Your father took a lot from me that day."

"Took it from you?"

"Yes...in the 'accident,' as he calls it. My plans, my ideas and experiments...all went up in smoke because of him."

Vaughn felt himself growing defensive. "It was an accident...it wasn't his fault. He lost a lot that day, too. His work, and his wife..."

"It was his own fault. He killed her," Brady said softly.

Vaughn felt the defensiveness immediately change to full-blown rage. He swung at Brady, but it was a clumsy blow and easily blocked. For several seconds they were locked face-to-face, eye-to-eye.

"Go to hell," Vaughn finally said, and spat on him.

He expected painful retribution, but Brady's only response was to wipe the saliva from his face.

"He took a lot from me," he repeated. "Now it's my turn to take something from him."

Vaughn stared at him as the words set in. He knew he shouldn't ask, that ignorance was bliss and that the wrong answer would shatter any hope he had left. And yet he somehow couldn't stop the words from coming out.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Brady simply nodded.

Vaughn felt cold and hollow inside. His knees grew slightly weak, and he leaned against the bunk for support.

"Why?" he managed to ask, his voice sounding pitifully small.

Brady's eyes took on a far-away look. "Because I have to make him understand."

Vaughn didn't bother to ask what his father needed to understand. His brain had switched from shock at Brady's damning words into survival mode. His only thought was to run, to get away. He slammed into Brady as hard as he could with his shoulder and took of running to the door.


	7. Chapter 6

Vaughn's years of football training were not in vain. The blow caught Brady off-guard and sent him flying backwards. Vaughn was already to the bedroom door when his captor hit the floor.

He jerked it open and immediately collided with Crystal, who also went flying backwards. Vaughn managed to stay on his feet, but wasted precious seconds steadying himself and turning right towards the front door. He was so focused on his goal that he barely heard Brady's shouts of "stop him!"

Vaughn never saw Michael Jakes come at him from the side. He was not aware of his presence until the huge man was slamming into him, tackling him and pinning him to the ground, right side down. Vaughn's left arm was still free, and he jammed his elbow up squarely into Jakes's nose. He heard him curse and saw a quick movement out of the corner of his eye. Then Jakes's huge hand was around his throat.

Vaughn's eyes grew wide with panic. His breaths, which were coming in quick gasps, were now almost stopped completely. He made a feeble attempt to push the huge man off of him, but Jakes's only response was to grip his throat harder.

Pain shot through his neck. Only the tiniest sliver of air was getting through his trachea. His lungs ached and burned, protesting the lack of oxygen. Stars flashed in front of his eyes.

_Play dead._ Vaughn stopped struggling and lay still, hoping to give his attacker what he seemed to want. Jakes finally loosed his grip, and Vaughn felt delicious air rush back in his lungs. He coughed and sucked in another huge breath of air, vowing never again to take it for granted.

His vision slowly came back into focus. Brady and Jakes loomed over him, seeming absolutely huge from his perspective on the floor. Brady was panting and his eyes were wild.

"Tie him back up," he gasped. "And lock him in the closet. If he gives you any more trouble, go ahead and shoot him." He took a deep breath, as if to regain his composure, then grabbed up his keys and phone from the coffee table.

"Where are you going?" Jakes asked.

"To get your money," Brady replied as he walked quickly out the front door.

* * *

Victor jumped when his cell phone rang, shattering the evening silence of the house. He had spent the last two hours trying to put all the pieces together and figure out what to do. He still had the feeling that he was missing some important detail, but worry and fatigue made it hard to concentrate. It was as if a fog was surrounding his brain.

The cell phone rang again. Victor glanced at the caller ID and was surprised to see Ted's number appear. "Pearson."

"Hello, Victor."

Victor took a deep breath. "Hello, Jonathan."

"I knew it wouldn't take you long to figure it out."

"You gave yourself away, talking about the ball and Peradyne."

"Then why haven't you turned me in?"

"Because I know you, Jonathan. I know you're intelligent, and reasonable, and that we can work this out."

"You think you know me…" Brady replied. "But I'm not the same man I was."

"Where's Vaughn?" Victor asked.

"He's learning his lesson right now. He's been giving me some trouble."

"Jonathan," Victor said imploringly, "you don't have to do this. Whatever problems are between us, whatever injustices you perceive-"

"Perceive?! I see nothing's changed, Victor. You never could admit your own mistakes."

"Don't take it out on Vaughn," Victor begged. "Give me a place I can meet you. We can talk face to face."

"Oh, we'll be meeting, all right. Do you know where Centerville is?"

"Yes…that's almost an hour away."

"Get the money and the ball and drive there. I will call you in an hour with further instructions." _Click._ He was gone as abruptly as before.

Victor stared at the phone for a moment, then grabbed up the briefcase and his keys.

"Where are you going?" Miller asked. He had come into the room when he heard the phone ring.

"To meet with Brady," Victor answered curtly, never breaking his stride.

Miller waited until he heard the front door slam, then took out his own cell phone.

"It's me. Yeah, he's coming. No, he never called them; I talked him out of it.... He's bringing the money, but I don't think he took the ball. I never saw him get it.... I don't know, maybe....All right. I'll keep you updated."

* * *

Brady's directions led Victor on a winding drive to Centerville, then to the next town over, and finally to an old run-down factory on the outskirts of town. It was past nine o'clock when he finally arrived. The gray clouds that had covered the sky earlier in the day had burned off by sunset, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. There was no one around and no cars except the one non-descript black Lexus in the dimly lit parking lot. Victor parked a few spaces down and walked towards the car. It's driver exited and walked towards him.

_Jonathan Brady._ The florescent orange lights cast strange shadows on his old colleague's face. Still, Victor could see worry lines and a cold expression that had not been present 15 years before. He could also see a handgun tucked into the waistband of his pants.

"Jonathan."

"Victor...what happened to your hair?"

Victor ignored the remark. "Where's Vaughn?"

"Patience, Victor."

"I brought what you wanted," Victor growled, holding up the briefcase. "Now give me back my son."

"I'll have to take a look at that first," said Brady, taking the briefcase. He set it on his car and popped it open, studying the contents.

"So far, so good. Money was never a problem for you, though." He snapped the case shut and faced Victor again. "Now, where's the ball?"

Victor slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver metal ball. He held it up between his thumb and middle finger, then ceremoniously let go.

It fell to the ground.

Brady looked up, confused. "What the hell are you trying to pull, Victor?!"

"I'm not trying to pull anything," Victor answered sincerely. "The ball lost power four years ago. There is no more power source."

"You're lying," Brady spat.

"No power source," Victor repeated. "No Peradyne Two."

"You had had that ball for ten years when I last saw it, and it never lost power."

"We were experimenting with it. Something went wrong. The ball is now affected by gravity just like everything else in the world."

Brady stared hard, looking Victor directly in the eyes, studying him. Victor just stared back, his cool expression never wavering.

Suddenly, Brady began to chuckle. His chuckle soon turned to a full-blown, almost maniacal laugh. The sound was unnerving to Victor, who nevertheless tried to maintain his icy expression.

"I knew it," Brady gasped. "I knew you hadn't changed. I knew you would trade your own son's life for your 'research.' Just like you did Charlie's, and Sarah's, and all those other people killed in the explosion."

His words stung. "Jonathan," Victor begged, "be reasonable. I would never put anything above Vaughn's life. I would give you the ball if I could. I AM giving you the ball, but you have to believe me. It does not have power anymore."

"Well, I don't believe you. You've always been a liar and a manipulator. It may work on your employees but it's not going to work on me." In an instant, Brady's expression had become deadly serious. He leaned in close to Victor. "Your son will pay for your lies. I'll put a bullet in his brain, just like I did your stupid chauffer."

Victor was momentarily taken aback. "What?"

Brady grinned. "That's right. Didn't you wonder what had happened to him? I guess he wasn't important enough for you to waste time worrying about."

Victor frowned. He had figured Ted was in on the kidnapping somehow, but he hadn't stopped to wonder about his fate. "I figured he was in Tahiti by now, with whatever money you gave him."

Brady laughed again. "That's what he thought, too. But I took care of him right after he delivered your son to us."

Victor stared hard, not really believing what he had just heard. "Jonathan...you killed Ted...I don't believe you're capable of that."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of."

Victor took a step back, thoroughly shaken. "Jonathan...you need...help. You're not well..."

"I'm helping myself now," Brady explained. "And you can help yourself, too. Hand over the ball, or Vaughn dies. It's that simple. I'll give you four hours to make your decision. I would suggest you use that time to get back to your home instead of wasting it following me." He grabbed the briefcase, climbed back into his car, and peeled out of the parking lot.

Victor leaned against the Porche, shaking slightly. He had just gambled his son's life on an assumption, one that was wrong. Deep down, he hadn't really been convinced that Jonathan Brady would hurt Vaughn, or that he was really capable of committing such a heinous crime. But their meeting tonight was more than enough to show him his error. Brady was not the same person he had known fifteen years ago. Victor could see it in his eyes; they were cold and dead, except when they momentarily came alive when he mentioned using and then killing Ted Clarke. Something inside him had changed, snapped even, turning him into a completely different person.

Victor hastily opened the door and started up the Porche. He floored the gas pedal, flying down the unfamiliar roads back to the mansion. He knew what he had to do. He only hoped he wasn't already too late.


	8. Chapter 7

Immediately upon arriving home, Victor went to his office. He knelt down next to the huge black telescope and pressed the buttons on the side. The secret door slid open, revealing his most prized possession, the metal ball. It floated weightlessly, happily unaffected by gravity. He looked around until he found a small plastic container. Carefully he positioned it around the ball and then closed the lid, sealing it inside. A two-dollar container now held the key to everything.

On the ledge behind his desk was a framed picture of Sarah. He picked it up now and studied it thoughtfully. He was not usually sentimental, and his logical mind knew that talking to a framed piece paper was wasted effort. Somehow he couldn't stop the words from coming out.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I know this will delay our plans a bit longer. But I know you would understand." Her smile never changed, as if confirming she was in agreement with him.

He set the photo back down and dropped into his padded office chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. He was tired of waiting, of thinking, of worrying; he just wanted this to be over. He didn't need hours to make his decision. He would give Brady anything he wanted.

He toyed with the idea of trying to call Brady, now that he knew he was using Ted's cell phone. But that might cause him to do something rash. Victor couldn't believe how much his old partner had changed, and how unstable he was. _How many other people have I affected that way?_

He could not get past the feeling that Brady was always one step ahead of him. He knew exactly where to get Vaughn, when to call and what number to use. He knew Victor was bluffing about the ball. He knew about Peradyne Two. There was no way he could've gotten all that information from Ted Clarke. Either he had some amazing, undetectable surveillance set up, or someone was feeding him information.

_Someone close._

"Victor," Miller asked as he came into the room. "How did the meeting go?"

Victor just stared for a moment, regarding him carefully. "Fine," he finally answered. "I mean, as well as can be expected. I'm meeting him again tonight."

"Do you need my help?"

"No," Victor answered slowly. "I think you've done quite enough for me. Why don't you go back home? I'm sure Vicki is wondering where you've been."

"Are you sure?"

Victor nodded. "I can take it from here." He stood and shook the attorney's hand. "Thank you, Frank. I mean that."

Miller nodded. "Just call me if there's anything else you need."

Victor watched until he was out of the front door. He looked at the clock. 11:15. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The closet was dark, stuffy, and infinitely worse than the bedroom. Vaughn sat in the cramped space now, tears sliding down his cheeks, feeling isolated and afraid and angry. Angry with himself for crying, instead of facing death bravely and stoically, as his father would've; and angry at the whole situation. It was such a stupid, ridiculous way for his life to end. He was barely even alive when the original events happened, and yet he was paying the price.

He wondered about his father now; if he was making an effort to find him, if he would pay the ransom, if he missed him at all. He knew in his heart that his father was doing everything he could to find him, but exhaustion and fear clouded his judgment and caused him to doubt.

One thought was clear in his mind, and it nagged at him now. If Brady simply wanted to kill him, he could've done it a long time ago. What was he waiting for? It could be the ransom…or there was the very real possibility that Brady was waiting to kill him in front of his father. Vaughn momentarily felt sick to his stomach.

He forced the thought out of his mind, and shifted his focus to his friends in the Science Club. It was strange, that in such a dark time he would think of the people he was really just beginning to know well. He had always been "popular," and had always had a lot of so-called friends, but he had never really felt close to any of them. He suspected they interacted with him mostly because of his name, his athletic ability, and his social status. They didn't really KNOW him, and they didn't really care. Strange too was the feeling he had that those in the Science Club DID care, even though he hadn't always treated them very well.

_Didn't treat them well?_ OK, that was putting it lightly. He had been a stuck-up jerk. It seemed ridiculous now, and he desperately wished he could go back and change that.

Memories of his friends, and school, and football, and Josie all filtered through his memory and danced in front of his eyes. He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt someone shaking him awake.

"Crystal?" he mumbled groggily.

She didn't answer but began tugging at the ropes that bound his feet.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"I heard them talking," she explained. "I heard Brady say he was going to kill you. I didn't know, I swear...I never thought..." she swallowed hard and took a breath before continuing.

"I had to wait for Michael to leave. Brady's been gone for a while, meeting with your father, I think. Michael just left to run to town for more beer. We have to hurry." She finally succeeded in freeing his ankles and was switching to his bound hands when footsteps sounded behind them. She froze, looking at Vaughn with wide eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Michael! I was just, um, checking on him, to, uh, make sure he doesn't get away." She stood quickly and tried to smile at him.

Michael Jakes took two more steps towards them. "Why are his feet untied?"

"Um...I found him like this! I was re-tying him."

Jakes studied her face carefully. "You're lying."

"No..."

"You were gonna let him go."

"Michael, you've been drinking...just calm down."

"Calm down?" he grabbed her by the arm and jerked her towards him. "I supposed you were going to turn me in to the cops, too!"

Inside the closet, Vaughn braced his feet and pressed his back against the wall. He managed to push himself into a standing position and stumble awkwardly into the bedroom.

Crystal jerked her arm free and stepped back, towards the door. "Michael, I would never turn you in."

"You bitch. You were going to betray me. I knew from the moment you showed up we would have trouble." Vaughn saw a flash of metal and felt his heart leap. _He has a gun._

"Michael, no...put that down...Michael!"

* * *

Outside in the driveway, Brady was once again calling the familiar number. "Hello, Victor. Did you get what I asked for?"

"I've got it. Where can I meet you?"

Brady began to grin. "I want to hear you say it. What do you have for me?"

"I have the floating metal ball, and all the information about Peradyne Two."

"And you'll give it to me?"

On the other end of the line, Victor sighed. "Yes, Jonathan. I'll give you anything you want. Just please, give me back my son."

Brady's grin turned into a full-blown smile. "Follow the interstate north to Highway 17 East. There is an old rest area there on the right side of the road, about two miles from the interstate. I'll meet you there." He hung up the phone and was surprised to hear a gun shot from inside the cabin.

* * *

"_Don't!"_ Vaughn shrieked. But the gun was already going off, shattering the nighttime silence and making Vaughn's ears ring. He saw Crystal stumble, grab at her stomach, and then fall to the floor. Blood was already beginning to seep between her fingers.

Vaughn stared, frozen with shock and horror. He had just seen someone shot. She was bleeding...Vaughn dropped to his knees next to her, wanting to help but useless with his hands still bound. "Crystal?" He looked up at Jakes, eyes wide with shock and horror. "How could you do that?!"

For a moment, Jakes looked surprised himself. Then his face hardened again. "She deserved it. She never should've gotten involved."

They both looked up as Brady appeared in the doorway. "What happened?"

"She was going to let him go," Jakes explained.

Brady nodded. "I told you she would be trouble. Come on, we've got to meet Pearson at the old rest area."

"Meet him? I thought you went to get the money? You said I was through after that."

"He didn't give me everything. He was unwilling to give up the ball or the plans."

_What?_ Vaughn felt his heart sink.

"I don't care about that! Give me my money so I can get out of here!"

"The money is at the rest area," Brady said calmly. It was a lie, but Jakes was half-drunk anyway. "I'll give it to you there, along with a plane ticket to get you out of the country. I just need you to help keep the kid in line."

Jakes stared hard, as if considering the offer carefully. The gun was still in his hand, raised in Brady's direction.

"It's almost over, Michael. We're almost there. Just give me another hour of your time, and we will be home free."

Once again, his words were mesmerizing. Jakes slowly lowered the gun.

"Good, Michael, good." Brady grabbed Vaughn's arm and pulled him along. "Let's go."

Vaughn took one last look at Crystal. She was still breathing, but shallowly now, and appeared to be unconscious. She was his last hope. Now she was gone, and his father wouldn't pay. Vaughn could do nothing but meekly follow his kidnappers out the door, his fate in their hands.

* * *

The ride to the rest area wasn't very long. Vaughn lie on the floor of the van and focused on breathing in and out, on good thoughts of his friends and happier times, on anything to keep himself calm and keep the dark thoughts away.

He thought of his mother. He had never met her, so he didn't have any memories of her, and yet he felt closer to her than ever. _Maybe I'll get to be with her._ The thought was soothing, and Vaughn focused on it.

The rest area was just off the lonely highway, shaded by large dark trees. A flimsy barricade warned travelers that the area was closed. Brady easily pushed it aside and drove his car into the parking lot. The building was long abandoned and boarded shut. A single orange light illuminated an area roughly 50 feet wide; the surrounding yard was dark and tapered off into thick forestland.

Vaughn was surprised at the cold night air when he exited the van. It had been cool but pleasant autumn weather the last time he was outside. Now it was chilly winter, with an icy breeze that his sleeveless shirt was powerless against. It made him wonder if he had been in captivity for weeks and not days. Everything he knew before was becoming fuzzy now. He was so tired...

After a few minutes, a car pulled into the lot, coming from the opposite direction. Vaughn recognized it as his father's Porche. His heart leapt as he watched Victor exit the vehicle and walk towards the circle of light.

"Don't come any closer," Brady instructed as Victor stepped into the light. He and Jakes stood on the opposite side, still in shadow, with Vaughn shivering between them.

"I brought what you wanted," Victor replied. "Come into the light where I can see you."

"I told you, you don't get to make demands," Brady growled. "Walk forward ten steps. Let me see what you brought."

Victor came forward and pulled a CD case out of his coat pocket. He opened it up and held it out, and Vaughn saw a flash as the light reflected off the CD. "The plans are on this disk."

"Set it on the ground. What about the ball?"

Victor reached inside his long black coat and pulled out the container. "It's in here."

"Show me!"

Victor slowly removed the lid. The metal ball floated gently into the air, hovering above his palm. Vaughn's eyebrows raised. His father had never told him about this. Still, he couldn't imagine why it was so important.

Apparently, neither could Michael Jakes. "Well, whadya know," he mumbled. "That's what you went to all this trouble for?"

Brady ignored him. "Put it back in the container and set it next to the disk. Then step back where you were." He turned to Jakes as Victor complied.

"Your part in this is done. The briefcase is in the front seat of my car and it has all your money in it, plus a plane ticket to Chicago. From there, you're on your own." Jakes grinned and winked at Vaughn, and quickly trotted to the car to claim his prize, not bothering to say goodbye.

"I brought what you wanted," Victor called. "Let Vaughn go."

Brady gripped Vaughn's arm tightly. Vaughn could feel the barrel of the gun poking into his ribs. Behind them Jakes's van rumbled to life and pulled out of the rest area.

"Walk up and get the stuff, then bring it back to me," Brady instructed in a low voice. "Come straight back to me or I'll shoot him instead of you." He pulled the ties off of Vaughn's wrists and nudged him forward.

Vaughn cautiously walked into the light to the container. He thought he heard a car pass on the highway near them.

"Stay where you are, Victor," Brady cautioned. "He's going to fetch for me."

Vaughn reached the center of the circle. He could see his father on the edge of it, his face eerily half-lit, half-shadowed. "Vaughn," he called softly.

"Dad," he answered desperately. "Get out of here."

"Shut up!" Brady yelled from behind him. "Get that stuff back here now!"

"POLICE! EVERYBODY FREEZE!"

Vaughn jerked to the left in surprise.

"THIS IS THE POLICE! NOBODY MOVE!"

He couldn't see anything beyond the circle of light. The voice screaming "police" was somewhere off to his left. He knew his father was in front of him and Brady should still be behind him. Brady...

'_Are you going to kill me?'_

'_Yes.'_

"Vaughn!" his father shrieked as Vaughn instinctively dropped to the ground.

Behind him, a shot rang out.


	9. Chapter 8

For several minutes, everything was confused motions and sounds to Vaughn. He heard more gunshots, and running footsteps moving away from him. He heard voices arguing, and then a young police officer was above him, asking him if he was all right. Vaughn looked up at him and couldn't speak. The officer checked him over for injuries and helped him to his feet, and then his father was there, shoving the officer out of the way and hugging Vaughn so tightly he couldn't breathe.

"Vaughn," he said in a voice Vaughn had never heard before. "Vaughn...are you OK?" He let go and looked down at his son. Vaughn tried to answer, but the lump in his throat was too big.

"You're freezing," Victor mumbled, feeling his bare arms. He hastily pulled off his long black coat and wrapped it around his son. Vaughn swallowed hard, trying to hold it back, but then the familiar smell of his father's cologne hit him, and it was too much. He leaned into him again as silent tears slipped down his cheeks, wetting the front of Victor's shirt.

"It's OK, Vaughn," his father assured him, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a few tears of his own. "It's over. We're going home."

* * *

In truth, they didn't actually get to go home until much later. Victor had flushed with anger when he saw the bruises on Vaughn's neck, and insisted that he be taken to a hospital for an examination. The doctor's found nothing wrong other than the ugly bruises and scrapes and slight dehydration.

Then he had to go to the police station in Centerville and give his statement, something Vaughn was reluctant to do. He didn't relish reliving the ordeal so soon after it was over, particularly Crystal's shooting. But the police said it would be best while the details were still fresh in his mind. A handsome officer with a heavy mustache interviewed him. His tone was conversational and caring, and he skillfully guided Vaughn through the dark hours of his captivity.

Victor also told his side of the story, about the phone calls and the meetings with Brady. Vaughn got the vague feeling he was leaving some details out, and was pretty sure it had to do with the disk and the ball. He had seen his father hastily pick it up off the ground and stuff it into his inside coat pocket before the police could ask him about it. Vaughn didn't press the matter.

He was surprised to hear his father mention Frank Miller's name. "I think you need to arrest him. I think he was in on it the whole time." He explained how Frank had come in just after he received the first call from Brady, and how he was always there at just the right times, advising him what to do or talking him out of calling the police.

The interrogator nodded. "We'll contact the authorities in your area to bring him in for questioning. Even if he wasn't in on it, we need to get his statement." He put down his pen and looked Victor in the eye.

"Why didn't you call the police, Mr. Pearson?"

Victor glanced at Vaughn. "I didn't want any harm to come to Vaughn. And I thought I knew Jonathan...I didn't realize how...how much he had changed."

Vaughn was confused. "But if you didn't send the police, then who did?"

"The lady you told me about, Crystal," the officer explained.

"She's alive?" Vaughn asked incredulously.

The officer nodded. "Her wound is serious, but last we heard the doctors think she will pull through. She was conscious long enough to crawl to the phone and call for help. She told us to go to the old rest area, that there was a crime in progress there. We sent a few officers to check it out and that's when we found you."

He also informed them that Michael Jakes hadn't gotten far. The police had stopped him before they even arrived at the rest area, when he was less than a mile down the road. "We can add attempted murder to his charges now too, from what you've told us."

Jonathan Brady had escaped into the woods on foot. The police were combing the area but so far had not found him. Vaughn found this news unsettling; Victor was downright enraged.

"How could you not catch him? He was right there? He tried to kill my son!"

"I assure you, Mr. Pearson, we are doing everything we can. We will capture him."

So it was late in the afternoon before Victor's Porche finally pulled up to the mansion. Vaughn exited the car and stared at the house for a moment.

"Coming?" Victor asked.

Vaughn nodded. "It's just...it's like seeing it for the first time or something."

They both turned as a movement to the side caught their eye. Someone was coming on foot. As the figure drew closer, Vaughn saw the setting sun reflect off of familiar red hair.

"Josie?"

Josie Trent glanced and Victor, then back at Vaughn. "You weren't at school the last couple of days...I brought your homework."

Vaughn looked at his father, surprised to see that the annoyed expression he usually got whenever Josie came around was absent. "I'll be inside, Vaughn," he said as he turned and walked inside the house.

Josie looked confused as well as she handed to books to Vaughn. "So...have you been sick or something? You didn't miss much, really. Well, except for Lucas and Marshall causing a minor explosion in the science lab when they-" she stopped as she caught sight of the bruises on his neck and face. "What happened to your neck?"

Vaughn didn't answer; he just stared at her concerned face for a moment. Then, without warning, he set the books on the car and pulled Josie into a hug, lifting her feet off of the ground.

"Vaughn?" she gasped. "What was that for? Are you OK?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling as he returned her to the earth. "I am now."

THE END

Note: Yes, Brady got away...I know there are some loose ends...a sequel is planned.


End file.
